


No Bullshit

by unlikelyvalentines (reegars)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, alt title: ss quinn wakes the neighbors, i'm always a slut for arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5394083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reegars/pseuds/unlikelyvalentines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deacon and Quinn have a great thing going: a pathological liar with a flair for the dramatic, and a recently unfrozen traumatized chronic overthinker with abandonment issues. Nothing could go wrong, right? </p><p>A little fight and a little fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Bullshit

Deacon was a light sleeper. But, the joke was on him, because ever since being awoken from her 200-year freezer nap, Quinn found herself wide awake most nights, stringing together her sleeplessness until finally she found a safe enough place to catch up with all the hours she had missed. Ever since the night she had started sleeping next to him while he accompanied her in her travels (and while they weren’t at Railroad HQ… they both felt a bit uncomfortable announcing their relationship to the rest of the team, though they were sure it was obvious,) she spent her waking hours meant for sleep listening to his breathing, watching the lines on his tired face, hearing the murmurs of forgotten names and fears pass his lips, the only time they ever would. 

She liked when he slept. He couldn’t lie. He couldn’t put on a face, or make up a story. His fears, his weaknesses, his past, they were all laid bare when he was unconscious of himself. She wished he would just speak clearer, as if she could piece together his nightmares into information she could use to get a true read on him. She felt selfish. 

Quinn had always been an open book. She didn’t bother with a front, with trying to make people think she was okay. She would have made a terrible spy or cop. She opted for lawyer, civil rights at that, so she wouldn’t have to lie so much about how she felt. She fought for justice, and most of the time, the truth. She understood the power of lies. She understood why they were so critically important to Deacon. But even with all her understanding, she was still terrified of him. Not of any physical danger. She felt safe with him in the moment. What she feared was his avoidance of the truth. What she feared was that this was all a lie to him, that he didn’t value her or love her and that he could just turn in a moment and leave, and never come back. 

In the dark, she reached out and touched his cheek. It was a small, sad attempt at trying to ease her storming mind. He stirred a little, then settled back down, closer to her than before. So much had happened in the past months, and he had stuck through it all with her. Why would he leave now? He wouldn’t yet, as the Railroad’s plan to assault the Institute and subsequently free the synths inside was just on the horizon. It was too important of a time to leave. 

But when it was over and the dust cleared? 

She squirmed closer into him, so that her face was tucked into the hollow of his shoulder and her arms tucked tight between their chests. He was so warm. How could he be so warm when she always felt so cold? She thought about her bed at the Institute, how she wished she could show him, take him there to take a hot shower and sleep on clean sheets and use a toilet that flushes and wear real clean clothes. But he wouldn’t want any of it anyway, not if it meant anything besides killing every single person inside. She wondered if he would want to know who created Barbara. She wondered if that story was even true. 

She stirred again, trying to get closer to Deacon even though there was no space to do so. Being the light sleeper he was, this woke him. “Baby? What’s up?” His voice was hoarse with sleep. He had never sounded so honest than when he called her baby. The thought made her heart race. 

“I can’t sleep. I’m sorry I woke you, I was just…” she trailed off, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in the dirty cotton shirt that covered his chest. He smelled of sweat and dirt and the whiskey they’d had before deciding to hit the sack. “I can’t stop thinking.” 

“What about?” he asked, trying to tip her chin up to look at him, but instead she curled further into his chest. “I promise I’m a good listener.” 

“Yeah.” 

“C’mon, Quinn. What’s wrong?” he wriggled down so they were pressed nose to nose. She almost could have laughed at the honest sight before her. No wig, no sunglasses, no story coming out of his big mouth. Just Deacon. 

Not that Deacon was his real name. 

“There’s just a lot on my mind. It’s really stupid, D. I just want you to get some rest. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow, walking to Diamond City,” she sighed, touching his face. 

“Maybe we should join the Brotherhood, free Vertibird rides, right?” he chuckled, poking at her side to tickle her a little bit. 

“Didn’t take you as the genocidal type.” Quinn let a smirk slip as he laughed. 

“I don’t know, it might be a fair trade if it means not walking all day and night.” 

“I’ll call them in the morning and make an appointment.” She tried rolling over to let him back to sleep on a good note, but he caught her by the shoulder and kept her facing him. 

His eyes were harsh with worry. “Seriously, Quinn. What’s on your mind?” 

“I—It’s really stupid. Not worth losing sleep over. Just go back to bed.” 

He brushed the hair from her face and looked at her with a smirk, like he already knew what was in her head. “You’re losing sleep over it. And you’re not stupid, so I mean…”

She rolled over and out of bed, and he didn’t stop her this time. Fumbling in the dark of her old living room, she found her Pip-Boy and flicked the light on. She refused to put herself or anyone else in the bedroom she had once shared with her husband. Everyone else had moved into the other houses in Sanctuary, and left her alone in her home with her old ghosts. Now that she knew where Shaun was and that there was no hope left of rescuing and raising him herself, it made it a little easier to live in the house, somehow. But that room, their room…it was off limits. Especially when Deacon was around. Lifting the dress that she’d left on the floor hours ago, she found her half-crushed pack of cigarettes and headed for the door, leaving Deacon on the mattress on the floor. 

Sitting on the front step, Quinn drew a bent cigarette from the pack and placed it between her lips, suddenly missing Nick Valentine, who never needed sleep and would always be there with a lighter and a smile. It was about this time that she always found herself missing telephones. If it didn’t mean a 6 hour walk alone, she probably would have just gotten up and went to see him. She needed a shoulder that she wasn’t going to get from anyone in Sanctuary right now. She reached into her pocket to grab her lighter, and came up empty handed. 

The tiny clink and grind of her lighter sounded behind her, causing her to jump. “Looking for this?” Deacon’s voice was thick with a smirk. 

“I fucking hate when you do that.” She shook her head as he took a seat next to her in the half-dark, the sun just starting to peek over the horizon. Holding out her hand for her lighter, she watched as he instead flicked the flame to life again and held it just away from her reach. 

“Can I at least have a kiss?” 

She looked away and put the cigarette back between her lips. “I really just want to be alone. 

He let out a sigh. “Come here, then.” She turned and let him light the cigarette, locking eyes with his tired blues as the flame flickered in the wind between them. 

She took a long drag and held it in, looking away from him once again as the smoke clawed its way down and back up her lungs, waiting for her exhale. She closed her eyes as the faint dizziness took hold of her, wishing she could just float away with her mind. Deacon was still next to her, waiting patiently for her to speak, like he always did. And sometimes, the only words that ever came were “let’s go back to bed.” He was always okay with it. And she was always thankful for it. 

Deacon’s hand on her knee was the straw that broke her back. “I really—I want to be alone, D.” 

“Alright, I’m sorry.” He sounded so dejected. She took another drag to try to erase the ache the sound left on her heart. He stood up to go back into the house, leaving Quinn feeling terrible. 

“I’m so scared,” she almost laughed, stopping him in the doorway. “I’m terrified.” 

“This has all been a lot on you. I can’t even imagine, Quinn. I’m sorry.” 

She laughed again, even more bitter than before. “No, I mean… You. I’m so fucking scared of you.” 

For once, he was the one taken off guard. “Me? You—I, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I did something to make you think I would hurt you. You can trust me. I’m sorry.” 

She had never heard him apologize so many times. This is why she didn’t want to have this conversation, because he would take it all the wrong way. He would only end up hurt, and that would encourage him all the more to disappear. “I’m not afraid of you hurting me. Not like that.”

“Then what? What could I have done to—” 

“I’m just waiting for the day you up and leave.” She shook her head, eyes still closed. She took another drag of the cigarette as he sat back down next to her. “You could just wake up one day and decide to change your face, leave me behind, and I would never see you again. I wouldn’t even know where to look.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

She whipped around and was met with his tired eyes once more. “How am I supposed believe that? How can I believe anything you say to me?” Her mind was on a tightrope between rage and tears. This had been stewing in her mind for weeks now. “Everything you say is a lie. Or a lesson. Or both. Why can’t you just tell me the truth?”

“None of that is about you. It’s not, I don’t know how else to tell you.” 

“It is, though, Deacon. It is about me, because when you lie, you’re lying to me. I don’t mind about the little things. I understand why you do it. I get it. I’ve done terrible things too. I don’t want to look in the mirror either, but it doesn’t give you an excuse to constantly bullshit someone who’s chosen to care about you this much.” 

“Listen, I’m not going anywhere. Yeah, before? I was bullshitting you all the time. But this is the most truth I’ve ever had with someone in a long fucking time. You want me to go? I’ll go. This is how you get me to go, by not trusting me.” 

“How the fuck am I supposed to trust someone who never tells me the truth?” she cried, throwing her almost-burnt cigarette on the pavement before her, wanting to hop to her feet. “How? How am I supposed to take anything you’re saying as honesty?” 

“Can you just listen to me for a minute?” 

“I’ve been listening. I’ve been listening to you lie and bullshit and pretend to be someone new every day. I’m so tired, Deacon. I just need someone who will be here with me.” 

“I’m asking you to listen, for one fucking second, Q.” 

“What, so you can tell me another lie?” She finally hopped up, barefoot on the cracked cement, rage pushing her to speak with her hands like her husband had before everything had gone to shit. “Has this all been a game to you? Seeing how much I can believe before you decide to pack your things and change your face again? Am I just your Railroad asset? Your agent for your cause? When this is all over and my son is dead and gone and I have nothing left again, are you going to leave? ‘Cause that’s your track record so far. If any of that was true, either!” 

He was quiet for a long time, much to Quinn’s dismay. “Take a breath,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face. He looked so strange to her without his sunglasses. She waited in silence for him to speak, arms crossed over her chest, waiting for the sun to come warm the frigid early Commonwealth morning. “Where is this coming from?”

“What do you mean where is this coming from!” she nearly shouted before he shushed her.

“Alright, stupid question. I know you’re angry, but people are sleeping, Quinna.” 

She frowned at the old nickname that Valentine had first coined. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Listen. Just please, listen, no bullshit. Alright? The lies, the changing faces, it’s something I do for myself. I don’t do any of that shit with cruel intentions, I do it to protect myself and to… protect you. But you know more about me, me as in Deacon and me as in the person I was before, than anyone else. Not Dez, not Glory, not anyone. I have told you the truth. But it doesn’t matter. Does my past really matter? Does it matter where I’ve been? I’ll answer that for you. It really doesn’t. What matters is now, what matters is that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I can’t even remember the last time I slept next to someone. No bullshit. That in and of itself is a lot. I trust you enough to not kill me in my sleep. I trust you enough to sleep somewhere besides HQ.” 

“So you trust me, but you can’t even tell me one true story?” 

“I have told you true stories, or at least some version of the truth. The truth is, this is the longest I’ve kept a face. It gets pretty hard to look in the mirror after a long time. I was in a scary place after I left the Capital Wastes. I didn’t want to be myself anymore. I didn’t want to be anything. Do you understand?” 

She closed her eyes, nodding. Of course she did. As soon as he said it, she became acutely aware of the aching in her chest, where half of her heart seemed to be missing. She couldn’t help but worry the gold ring on her finger, thinking of how she felt in front of Cormac’s corpse. She still couldn’t bring herself to go back, to get him and bury him like she should have the second she got out of that damned vault. She understood what it was like to not want to be. 

Somedays she was jealous of Deacon. Sometimes she wished she could bring herself to change her face, too. 

“I don’t tell the truth because I can’t hear it. It was so fucking hard for me to hear you not believe me about Barbara. I get it. But it still hurts. That was real. Modified so I could hear it leave my mouth, but it was real. The diet version. I left out the gruesome details so you wouldn’t hate me as much as I do.” He laughed, the sound so sad. “I do what I have to do to survive. Just like you do. Some days, I’m just hanging in there. Having you around… it helps. It helps me look in the mirror. But it’s a process. I can’t just be someone else—the person you want me to be, myself, I guess… overnight. I told you exactly what you were getting into when we started traveling together. I can’t force myself to tell the truth all at once, or else I will bail. I’m trying for you, Quinn.” 

She felt tears burning at the corners of her eyes. “I just don’t want to lose you too. You don’t understand I—I’ve lost everything in my life. My husband is dead, my son is—my son is the person that the group I’m with seeks to kill, Deacon. My house, my life, I—it was all here, and it feels like it was months ago. I’ve lost everything. And the fact that I’m afraid to sleep because I’m so scared you’ll leave while I’m unconscious and I’ll never see you again, it’s just… It’s so scary. I don’t want you to go.” By the time she got the words out, she dissolved into tears. “I want you to stay. Please stay. Please.” 

He stood up and took her into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise. I mean it. Quinn, I… I don’t know how to tell you this in any way that will make you believe me. I don’t deserve an ounce of your belief.” She was crying into his shirt, her hot tears soaking through to his skin. It was then he realized he’d never seen her cry, not like this. She’d been shaken up after her encounter with Kellogg, but those were tears of anger. Not fear, not loss, not sadness. “I’m scared too.” 

“Of what?” 

He took a deep breath, unsure of how to say what he wanted to without scaring himself off. “Of losing you. Because I really care about you. More than… more than anything.” 

Quinn’s eyes, still glazed with tears, were soft when she looked up at him. “I love you.” 

The words he’d been fearing the most. The words that he had been waiting to hear. “I do too, Quinn.” 

“I’m sorry I—” 

“Don’t, alright? He offered a small smile that she mirrored. “No apologies. Let’s go back to bed before everyone else gets up, okay?” He took her by the hand and led her back through the doorway of the old house. “Maybe we can even sleep in.” 

“I doubt it.” 

He smirked. “Would I lie to you?”

**Author's Note:**

> a bit OOC for the fluff, i know, but bear with me. i really need some deacon fluff sometimes, alright?


End file.
